Log 1

[mayfield_mods]

Who: Everyone (General Log)
What: Make yourself at home.
Where: A new town
When: The first day

Comments

[cursedtolive]

And where's your proof that superstitions can't be real? Why do you think superstitions even exist in the first place!

[[hey no worries! there's no rush, so take whatever time you need ♥]]

[justdumbluck]

How am I supposed to know? People just make things up.

[[Thank you! <3]]

[cursedtolive]

Where there's smoke, there's fire!

[justdumbluck]

That's got nothin; to do with what we're talkin' about! You can't just use a saying and be right!

[cursedtolive]

That was a perfectly placed saying!

[justdumbluck]

I'm just sayin' it doesn't actually prove your point! Gimme one example of a superstition that's got anything real to back it up.

[cursedtolive]

... Um.

[He blinks.]

[justdumbluck]

[And Firo blinks back. Despite asking the question as a challenge, a part of him expected Czes to fire right back with an example that he'd have to scramble to refute.]

...What?

[cursedtolive]

... I'm too lazy to think of anything.

[He turns back to the rest of the garage with a huff!]

[justdumbluck]

Too lazy? That's no excuse!

[He folds his arms and stares after Czes; nobody's ended an argument with him like that before.]

Then that means I win, right?

[cursedtolive]

No.

You're not allowed to win.

[justdumbluck]

What? What the hell does that mean?

[cursedtolive]

It means exactly what I said. You're not allowed to win.

[justdumbluck]

You can't just say that! It's an argument; the person who's right wins!

[cursedtolive]

Yeah and you're not right, do you don't win.

[justdumbluck]

But you can't prove me wrong, so that makes me right!

[He swings out his arm to punctuate his point, nearly spilling the paint as he does so.]

[cursedtolive]

... That's not the way it works, Firo. You're gonna spill the paint.

[justdumbluck]

But that is-! Huh?

[Oops. Just going to discretely set that down now.]

I'm still right.

[cursedtolive]

No you're not.

You're just not.

[justdumbluck]

I'm not listenin' to you until you come up with a good reason.

[Harumph!]

...You done over there? We could get started on this sign.

[cursedtolive]

If you're not gonna listen to me, why're you asking me a question? Yeah, I'm done.

[justdumbluck]

I meant--!

[Czes has him there, so he breaks off with an angry sigh. He stoops down to grope in the spot where he picked up the paint can, eventually finding a brush. It's a bit wide for the precise task of writing, but it'll do.]

Okay, fine. Whatever. I'll get stated on this. We probably just need both of our names, if it'll all fit.

[The board isn't too big, a few inches longer than Firo's forearm and about as tall as the length of his hand.]

[cursedtolive]

[He snickers in mirth as he walks back over to Firo and examines the board.]

Well, both our names can be short so I'm sure it'll fit if we write small enough!

[justdumbluck]

Right.

[They're probably the only Firo and Czes here, so their last names shouldn't be necessary.

He sits on the ground and sets the plank flat out in front of him. Shakily, painstakingly, he begins to paint out the letters, starting with his own name.]

[cursedtolive]

[The pros of having names that aren't English or Japanese. Czes crouches opposite Firo to avoid bumping into his arm and watches, quiet so he doesn't disturb the man.

... The concentration kind of reminds him of Isaac and Miria's domino shenanigans and he feels a small pang in his heart at that, but he ignores that too.]